


those diamond dreams (they can't disguise the truth)

by symphony7inAmajor



Series: something about you [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, i still don't really know!!, more working through my jets feelings, technically a sequel but since part 1 was also just porn it's not important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: Adam can’t stop shaking after they lose.(the jets lose, and brandon finds his courage)





	those diamond dreams (they can't disguise the truth)

**Author's Note:**

> part 1: haha funny times hashtag ass eatin szn  
> part 2: crying.
> 
> :)
> 
> people asked me to write a sequel where he gets tied up so uh. here. i spilled my emotions into it.
> 
> title from "something about you" by level 42 again. keeping the theme.

Adam can’t stop shaking after they lose.

Brandon watches him carefully until they get on the plane, at which point he puts his hand down firmly on his thigh, thumb digging into one of the fading bitemarks he’d left there only a few days ago.

He still doesn’t relax. Brandon doesn’t let go until they land back in Winnipeg, and he waits until the rest of the team is mostly out of earshot before he lets Adam stand up.

“Come to mine,” Brandon says. He doesn’t wait for Adam to answer, just tightens his grip briefly before letting go and leaving.

He takes his car home, gives Adam the chance to go to his place first if he needs to.

When he gets in the shower, the hot water rushing over his aching muscles, he finally lets himself think about the loss. They were supposed to go _farther_ this year, not choke in the first round. He presses his palms against his eyes.

 _Still not Tampa,_ he thinks, with a strangled sort of laugh. At least they’d gone down with a fight.

When he gets out of the shower, his fingers are going pruney and he washed his hair twice by mistake. He towels off, shaves, and pulls on some sweats and one of the hoodies that used to belong to Adam but, at one point or another, found its way into Brandon’s closet. He tucks his nose into the collar and sighs. He needs to swap this one out.

It doesn’t smell like Adam, anymore.

Waiting on the couch for Adam to arrive is, like, maybe pathetic. Especially since Brandon doesn’t think he’s actually going to show up.

It’s been an hour since he got home, and being alone in his quiet apartment makes him think about _things._

About losing, about his contract, about Adam.

“We weren’t anything,” Brandon says, reminding himself. “Just for fun.” It even _sounds_ like a lie.

Brandon had thought, maybe, that when they’d started their… _whatever,_ that he’d be able to tell Adam how he really feels some day.

He draws his knees up to his chest and stares at the wall.

He’d even thought he’d be able to do it this year, if they made it anywhere.

But they didn’t. They _lost._

Adam’s probably realized that there’s no point in sleeping with Brandon, who’d been convenient when they were on the same team, but now that Brandon’s future is up in the air, it’s too hard. There’s no _point._

That’s when there’s a knock at the door.

Brandon blinks out of his musings to get up and answer it, tries not to relax too obviously when he sees Adam. Not that Adam looks like he’s in any state to be noticing things.

His hands are still trembling.

Brandon draws him inside, helps him take off his jacket and shoes before sitting him down on the couch. It’s easy to sit next to him, to let Adam curl against him until he’s lying down with his head in Brandon’s lap. Easier still to stroke his fingers through Adam’s hair until he finally, _finally_ goes limp with a quiet sigh.

“There you go,” Brandon whispers, scratching his nails lightly over Adam’s scalp. Adam makes a whimpery little sound, pushes his head closer into Brandon’s hand. “Hey, it’s okay,” Brandon says. He tugs Adam a little closer. “Let me take care of you now.” He tries to school his face before Adam can see the way his eyes probably have cartoon hearts in them. 

Adam looks up at him, his eyes wide and soft. He still hasn’t shaved his beard, and Brandon strokes his fingers through it. He brushes a finger over Adam’s mouth, intending to keep it an innocent touch, but Adam’s just. Well, he’s _Adam,_ so he opens his mouth and lets Brandon slide his fingers in.

He’s so _easy,_ Brandon thinks, but doesn’t say. Adam’s mouth is hot and wet around his fingers, and he thinks about pushing Adam off the couch, getting him to kneel in front of him, and suck Brandon’s dick.

Adam would let him, he knows. But he doesn’t do it. Tonight, he thinks, deserves something more.

He pulls his fingers out of Adam’s mouth, wiping them off on the couch as he ducks down to kiss him, muffling his bereft little whine. He kisses him, long and deep and slow, until Adam is squirming, leaving one hand pressed against his chest to keep him down. Adam is breathing hard when he moves back, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, not touching at all, and Brandon--Brandon didn’t _ask_ him to do that, he just did it.

He feels a little dizzy with how turned on that makes him feel.

“Adam,” he says, helpless. He runs his thumb under Adam’s eye, down the side of his face. Adam closes his eyes. It _aches,_ all the feelings Brandon has for him tangled up in one big ball that sits heavy in his chest. “Adam,” he repeats, and something in his voice must sound serious, because Adam opens his eyes again, looking up at him with a worried expression.

Adam slowly moves to take the hand Brandon still has on his chest, carefully folding them together. Brandon can feel his heartbeat through his shirt. He’s very aware of all the ways he’d imagined telling Adam, over a nice dinner, or something said easily over a cookie tray, or drunk so he could laugh it off in the morning if he needed to, or--

Or the one he’d hardly ever given thought to, of saying it over the Cup, having to yell to be heard over the screams of the crowd and their teammates, hauling Adam down by the front of his jersey to kiss him right there on the ice. He thinks about it.

He looks, properly, at Adam, lying across his lap and holding his hand, eyes wide, clear blue against his flushed cheeks.

He thinks about it. And he lets it go.

“I love you,” he says, and he makes sure his voice is clear and steady so Adam won’t be able to misinterpret it. Adam’s hand tightens around his, a gentle squeeze, but Brandon barely feels it. He’s too focused on Adam’s face, the way his eyes light up and he _smiles._

“Brandon,” he says and stops, like he can’t even speak. Brandon uses his free hand to cup Adam’s cheek, hope rising in his chest. “Brandon,” he says again. Adam reaches up with his own free hand, gently touches Brandon’s face. “I love you.” Brandon feels like he could maybe, like, float away. “So much.”

A laugh, a little watery, forces its way out of Brandon’s mouth. He leans down to press their foreheads together, then kisses him again.

“What’s funny,” Adam mumbles. He chases after Brandon’s mouth, looking displeased when Brandon presses him back.

“Just.” He sighs, smiles a small sort of smile. “We’re stupid.”

“Mm,” Adam agrees. He blinks. “Kiss me again?”

Brandon’s tempted-- _God,_ is he tempted--but he’s got an idea now. Not much of one, to be fair, but. It’s something.

“Up,” he says instead, ignoring Adam’s sad face. “Bedroom, then I’ll kiss you again, come on.” Adam almost leaps off the couch and is halfway down the hallway before Brandon can even stand up.

“Hurry up or I’m starting without you,” Adam calls. Brandon wonders if he would. He thinks no, but that’s something for another day. He follows Adam to his room.

Adam’s just sliding off his sweats and boxers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He’s already hard, and that’s. Brandon steps forward, pulling his hoodie over his head in the same motion, and pushes Adam back until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, then steps between his legs, looking _down_ at him for once. It’s easy to get a hand in Adam’s hair to hold him still before leaning in to kiss him again.

Easy to get lost in the feeling of Adam’s mouth, the softness of his lips and tongue contrasted against the roughness of his beard, Adam’s hands on his shoulders, his soft noises. Easy to press him back enough to get a knee planted on the mattress, just close enough to Adam’s dick to tempt him but too far for it to be helpful for him, leaving him hitching his hips helplessly into the air.

Then he pulls back.

Adam’s hands fall back to his sides, curling in the comforter.

“Lie back,” Brandon says. “I’ve gotta get something.” A flush rises on Adam’s cheeks. He knows what that means.

Brandon goes to the closet and pulls a box down from the shelf. He takes the length of rope out, the material soft and supple in his hands, then turns back to the bed.

Adam’s sprawled on his back, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest, his arms over his head. Brandon climbs on top of him, still wearing pants, to take his hands and carefully tie them together, then to the headboard. He strokes his thumbs over where the rope is pressing into Adam’s skin.

“Okay?” Adam swallows hard, tugs carefully to test the give.

“Yeah,” he says, breathy. “‘S good.”

Brandon smiles, kisses him quick before he gets up to take off the rest of his clothes. He settles back between Adam’s legs, keeping himself up on his knees. Adam twitches, tries to move closer, but Brandon tied him well enough that he can pretty much only move his legs, which doesn’t help him very much. 

“Brandon,” Adam whines, trying to sound as pitiful as possible, _“please_ touch me.” He looks up at Brandon with wide eyes and wriggles a bit. Brandon leans over him and smiles.

“Sure,” he says, then moves so that he’s lying beside Adam instead of on top of him. Before Adam can say something, Brandon shifts so they won’t get awkward cricks in their necks and kisses him. He keeps the only point of contact their mouths and his hand on Adam’s face, holding him steady.

Brandon uses every kissing trick he knows, using his tongue and teeth and lips in his best efforts to drive Adam _crazy._ Adam’s making muffled sounds into every kiss by the time Brandon sits back, and his mouth is red and slick, his eyes almost glazed over. He tries to follow Brandon, but the rope keeps him down.

“I’m not done,” Brandon says, and gets started on Adam’s neck. Since a lot of his usual favourite spots are covered by his beard, Brandon stays lower, moves to his collarbone where he scrapes his teeth over the jut of bone. Without his mouth busy, Adam’s a lot noisier. Brandon treasures every little gasp and sigh, memorizes them.

Adam almost _shouts_ when Brandon gets his mouth on his nipples, though, his back arching into it. Brandon presses a hand against his dick, trying not to think about how much he wants to fuck Adam. _Soon,_ he thinks firmly. Somehow, that doesn’t really help.

He bites Adam’s chest, not too hard, then licks over the mark. Adam shivers.

Brandon moves back between his legs to kiss down his stomach, then avoids his dick to suck bruises into his thighs. He keeps his hands firmly on Adam’s knees, reminding him not to move. Adam is shivering, his whole body red and the hair at his temples damp with sweat. His dick looks like it _aches,_ he’s so hard. Brandon can empathize.

Trailing a hand up Adam’s inner thigh, Brandon waits for him to look. When he does, Brandon ducks his head like he means to blow him, but instead he moves lower, until he can prop Adam’s hips up with a pillow, spread him open and lick into him.

Adam kicks his legs out in a way that probably could’ve been dangerous if Brandon hadn’t expected it, gripping his knees tighter and pressing his legs back. Brandon doesn’t spend as long as he had the last time eating him out since tonight that’s not the end goal, but. He’s still kind of sad when he pulls away, pressing his thumb against where Adam is wet with his spit.

“Brandon,” Adam says, and he sounds _wrecked,_ his voice unsteady and rough. His throat works. _“Please.”_

Brandon reaches into the bedside table to get the lube and a condom, slicks up his fingers and slides one into Adam.

Adam always loves this part, always gets loud and enthusiastic even on days when this is the part they start with. Today, after all the emotion of the loss and the confessions and the way Brandon’s been winding him up for so long, well. It was only a matter of time until he cracked.

When Brandon gets two fingers in him, pressing teasing strokes against his prostate, Adam starts to cry. Not much, not bad, just his eyes welling up and overflowing with everything he’s feeling. Brandon hesitates when he sees, but Adam rocks back against his hand.

“Don’t _stop,”_ he begs, closing his eyes. Brandon doesn’t. 

“Look at me,” Brandon says. When Adam opens his eyes again, Brandon slides a third finger into him, making him groan. “That’s good, baby,” Brandon says, and Adam shudders, clenching around his fingers.

Brandon doesn’t waste too much time after pulling his fingers out, rolling on the condom and slicking up efficiently.

“Maybe next time you don’t use one,” Adam mumbles, and Brandon knows that this is a serious conversation they’ll have to have soon, but right now, the image is enough to make him have to squeeze the base of his dick so he doesn’t come on the spot.

“Can’t just _say_ that,” Brandon says, but before Adam can reply, he’s already pressing in. He fingered Adam for long enough that it just takes one slow, smooth slide until he’s fully inside. Adam tugs at his bonds like he’d pull Brandon closer if he could.

“Meant it,” Adam gasps, his head falling back as Brandon starts to move. “I want it, mm, want you, all the time, _fuck.”_ His voice breaks on the last word as Brandon finds his prostate, grinds into him slowly. Adam twists his hands in the rope and holds on when Brandon starts to fuck him properly, long thrusts that leave him shaking and desperate for the next.

At some point, Brandon drops his hand to Adam’s dick to jerk him off. It doesn’t take long for him to come, tensing up before going limp. Brandon finishes a moment after, hips stuttering against Adam’s ass and falling against Adam’s chest.

“Love you,” Brandon says, then carefully slides out and gets rid of the condom before lying back on Adam’s chest. 

“Love you back,” Adam says. He pauses. “But you’re too heavy to stay like this for long, dude.” Brandon turns his head enough to kiss his chest, then rolls off so he can untie Adam and rub at his wrists before arranging him into being the little spoon. He snuggles up behind Adam with a sigh.

They lie together for a long moment.

“Thank you,” Adam says, breaking the silence. “Just. Thank you. For this.” 

“If we’re being honest,” Brandon says, careful, “I’d choose you over a Cup every time.”

Adam says nothing, but Brandon feels him relax back into his arms.

So they lost, yes. Brandon doesn’t know where he’ll be next year either.

But it’s hard to feel uncertain or like a loser when he has Adam, warm and sturdy in his arms, feeling more certain about him than he ever has about anything.

**Author's Note:**

> first time i ever made myself cry with my own writing was this one. bonus points if you can guess where.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)


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